The Labyrinth
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: Wee!chesters. Young Sam and Dean watch a classic kids’ movie.


Title: The Labyrinth

Author: MissAnnThropic

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: Wee!chesters. Young Sam and Dean watch a classic kids' movie.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

Author's Note: Okay, so maybe _I_ was watching one of my favorite movies from when I was a kid, and given Sam and Dean are about my age, I figure they must have watched it, too.

* * *

As far as the kiddie movies went, Labyrinth was one Dean didn't mind watching with Sam too much. He got a lot of enjoyment out of threatening to send Sammy to the Bog of Eternal Stench. And he liked the guys that took their heads off, even though they freaked out Sam. His little brother had seen the movie at least a hundred times, and he knew when the orange guys (or 'poodle-dudes' as the Winchester boys called them) were going to show up, and never fail Sam would inch toward wherever Dean happened to be. Didn't matter how far away or how close Dean was to his little brother, by the time the first poodle-dude showed up, Sam was pressed to Dean's side, clinging to his shirt with at least one hand (and sometimes two).

Dean never admitted it, but he kind of liked the way Sam curled up against him during that part. It made him feel big and strong. Like their dad. Because Sam was scared, and he believed Dean could keep him safe.

Maybe that was why Dean liked the poodle-dudes.

The chick in the movie was pretty, too, which helped.

Sam was five years old, Dean nine. They were watching Labyrinth for what had to be the one-hundred fiftieth time, one of the few normal kid things they could boast. Never mind that they were cooped up in a motel room by themselves waiting for their dad to come home from hunting evil. They had a beat-up VHS of the Labyrinth movie that rattled around in the bottom of the trunk, but most motel TVs didn't have players. This time, Sam found the movie playing on a movie channel.

Dean was sitting on one of the beds, Sam on the other, jumping up and down on the mattress and singing off-key along to 'Dance Magic'. Dean was pretending to do homework, but David Bowie and his horde of goblins were much more interesting.

Add dancing and singing Sammy to the equation and it wasn't looking good for his grade in American History.

When the song ended, Sam vaulted across the space between the two beds and landed in a heap by Dean's feet.

"Watch it, Sammy, I'm trying to work here." He thought he sounded a lot like their father when he said that.

Sam untangled himself from his own limbs and sat up facing Dean on the bed. He was out of breath and flushed from the nearest thing to play he could manage in the motel room, because they weren't allowed to go outside unless it was an emergency.

Dean sensed Sam's eyes on him and looked up over the top of his book from where he was using his lap as a desk. Sam was watching him.

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam asked, "Dean, if the Goblin King took me to the castle in the Goblin City, would you come save me?"

Dean lifted his eyebrows and said matter-of-factly, "No."

The reaction was almost comical. Dean doubted he could have shocked Sam more if he'd leaned over and punched him in the nose. Sam blinked owlishly at his big brother. Then meltdown. Sam's expression fell. His lips clamped together, on the verge of quivering. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes and put his book aside. "Come here, doofus."

Sam, sniffling, inched across the mattress closer to his brother.

Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, just like their dad always did to him like he was talking to him man to man.

"Sammy… I wouldn't save you from the Goblin King's castle because you wouldn't _be_ there. I wouldn't let that Goblin King take you in the first place."

Sam's look went from devastated to hopeful. "Really?"

Dean smirked. "Dude… that creepy goblin guy tried, I'd blast him full of rock salt. Would serve him right for trying to touch my little brother."

Sammy started to smile. He wasn't old enough yet to ask why guns shot rock salt, he just knew in his world they did.

Dean ruffled Sam's hair and patted the bed next to him, "Now sit down and watch the movie, dork-face. I can't concentrate when you're jumping around like a poodle-dude."

Sam's eyes went wide as he scuttled over to Dean's side. "I'm not!"

Dean hooked an arm around Sam's neck. "Don't argue with your big brother, or I'll dunk you in the Bog of Eternal Stench!"

END


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